


The Perfect Vixen

by CluelessCombination



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 20:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12825693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CluelessCombination/pseuds/CluelessCombination
Summary: In which Nick Wilde learns a little bit about himself through matters of the heart.Judy is just here to smooth out the aftermath.





	The Perfect Vixen

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I came up with.  
> This is my first fanfic ever! Any and all criticism is welcome.  
> Be warned: the summary and tags are complete and utter garbage. If you're expecting something particular from either, think again.  
> Hope you enjoy.

As Nick slowly trudged through the drizzle, wandering about without a specific purpose or direction, he stared at the cars going by and thought about just how adept he was at ruining chances at good things. He looked down at his feet, only to be met with his reflection in a puddle. It stared back, taunting him, as if to say, _gotta have it all, huh Wilde?_

His muddied boots drew no prints in the puddle, leaving only ripples in their wake.

He’d been walking aimlessly down the bustling street for a good hour now, occasionally visiting stores and avoiding mammals he recognized, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He was neither mad nor upset nor even surprised at the events that had transpired a couple of hours ago, just contemplative. Right as he had considered hailing a taxi or calling an uber, his phone buzzed in his pocket, bringing his attention from elsewhere.

He opened his phone to see a cheeky text from Judy - _How’d the date go, foxy? Con another vixen into your love life? ;)_

Under any normal circumstances, he would have chuckled it off, and responded with something witty, in typical Nick Wilde fashion. These were, however, not normal circumstances, and so he opted for the simple response.

_It was alright_

As the typing bubble popped onto his screen, he could almost hear her scoff as she deciphered his deflective texting tone altogether too easily, hesitating for just a moment (of contemplation, he’d imagined) before her message appeared.

_Want to talk about it?_

This was a bad idea. A horrible idea, even. No need to drag Judy into the situation and inconvenience her more than necessary. This was his issue and his alone to deal with. Besides, he was thoroughly exhausted from today’s affairs. Nick knew that the smart thing to do was call it a day and retire to his run-down bed in his even more run-down temporary apartment in the most run-down block in the city, but Nick Wilde and common sense had been strangers all day, and why make amends now?

He let his fingers move themselves over the keyboard before pocketing his device and changing his course.

_Be there in fifteen_

* * *

 Judy sat on her bed, staring at the clock, counting the minutes as they went by. Patiently awaiting Nick’s arrival, she thought back to the brief conversation the two had shared over text. She’d been taken aback by Nick’s straight-forward, no-nonsense response to her light-hearted question, a rare show of restraint from the fox’s usual joking self. Perhaps most offputting of all, he hadn’t included a _single_ carrot emoji in his messages!

_Either things went really well, and he’s itching to tell me in person, or they went terribly south_ , she thought grimly. Somehow, the second option seemed to jump out at her as the more plausible circumstance.

Possibilities of how Nick could’ve somehow managed to mess up his date swirled around in her head. They had seemed so easy going around each other when she had been with them, so much so that when she had seen them together, she was filled with a sense of pride for Nick and also a pang of… something else, something she couldn’t put her paw on.

Anxiety? Envy? _Jealousy?_ She berated herself for thinking such silly things and shook her head.

Whatever happened to drive a wedge between Nick and the vixen appeared to be rather serious, and the last thing Nick needed was to hear about her own confused feelings when she had to be the one to comfort him.

She was torn from her thoughts by three gentle knocks permeating the wood of her door. Faster than when she chased down the infamous Don Cheetah, she bolted to the door and flung it open, only to be met by a fox who looked like he had run a marathon and back, draped in a wet raincoat, tail seemingly glued to the floor.

“Come on in?” She asked sheepishly, suddenly very aware of how uncomfortable her unheated, cramped apartment would be to a drenched Nick.

After handing him a towel and a cup of hot cocoa, she flopped onto her couch and patted the space next to her.

“Want to try a movie?” She asked, knowing that he’d likely be unwilling to divulge any information given his current state. “We can watch that one Horse Anderson movie you’ve wanted to show me for however long.”

For the first time that night, Nick cracked a smile. “Hot cocoa and a Horse Anderson film? How could I say no?” Judy shook her head in playfulness and slugged him in the shoulder before putting the movie on play.

It was comfortable and familiar - the cracked jokes, the togetherness, enjoying each other’s company - just what Nick needed. As the movie and the chatter winded down, Nick stretched and realized just how weary his bones were, prompting him to ask if he could just stay the night, too exhausted to make any sort of attempt to get home, and Judy was more than happy to oblige. When she offered that he take the bed, the usual Nick would’ve refused and found a way to make the stubborn bunny sleep in her own bed, taking the couch himself, but he knew in his tired state that he was no match for Judy’s unrelenting generosity and he figured it wasn’t worth the effort. Sliding onto the bed in the dimly lit room, he almost got lost in the warm embrace of sleep before Judy tore him from it mentally, kicking and screaming, with a simple request.

“Alright foxy, relaxation time is over. Spill on the date!”

Nick groaned. “Yes ma'am, Ms. Drill Sergeant. Requesting permission to never speak of this again, ma’am.” He gave a weak salute, wincing at how much effort it took to move.

Judy smiled devilishly. “Nuh-uh, not this time, sly fox. Explain yourself.”

“Guess I’m not getting out of this one, huh?” Nick replied.

Judy shook her head. “Nope!”

Nick could practically hear the smugness in her voice as he gave in, and tried to recollect his thoughts.

“Alright, where do we start?”

* * *

 “What can I start y’all with? Any drinks?” asked the jovial bobcat waitress to the two foxes sitting in the booth.

Nick pondered for a moment, considering the direction he wanted to take the evening in.

“I’ll just take water, if that’s fine with you?” Nick replied, turning to his date.

She just shrugged, with a _be my guest_ expression. “I’ll take water too, please.”

As the dinner progressed, with both foxes happy to make the occasional - albeit pleasing - talk and simply enjoy the food, conversation eventually winded down to the inevitable - discussion about work, and even more inevitable than discussion about work is discussion about the people you work with.

“You and Judy seem awfully close for a fox and bunny” the vixen stated with half-lidded eyes. Her sudden self-satisfaction almost reminded Nick of himself; the posture, the smug tone, the eyes taking every last detail. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror intent on reading his very being, and it was terrifying.

The statement caught Nick off guard, but not because he wasn’t expecting it. If he was being honest, he had been expecting a question about Judy all night, seeing as they were largely inseparable, and the vixen had only ever seen them together. It surprised him because it was laced without venom or even inquisition, just understanding.

“I’d imagine two years of police work side by side, not to mention countless near death experiences will do that for you.” It was a lame, generic reply, but he knew the facade was over. She saw right through him.

“Nick, please. We can talk unfiltered. Why did you ask me out?” She asked simply. Again, Nick couldn’t detect any anger or venom in her voice, just enough smugness to last a lifetime. God, how could anyone be that smug?

_That’s the pot calling the kettle black_ his consciousness chimed in, uninvited.

_Not helping_.

Nick gave a shrug, and decided that the truth was the best answer. “You’re the perfect vixen, but I realized halfway through today that I don’t want that.”

* * *

 Nick, returning from his mental recollection and having run a few mental analytics on damage control determined that the nice and short abridged version of the story would be the optimal choice. _A few small details left out never hurt anyone._

“Long story short, we just didn’t hit it off, nothing more, nothing less” he shrugged. “I’m surprised it went as well as it did, given the circumstances. All things considered, we’re still good friends and we both left amicably, just not as a package.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “You and I both know that explanation is bull-hockey -”

“Don’t let Bogo catch you saying that, he’ll have you on parking duty till death does you and your beloved meter-maid outfit apart” Nick interjected. Judy ignored him, not even giving him the dignity of a second eyeroll.

“Things seemed to be going so well between you two, how in the world could you know so definitively after one date - that went rather well, from what I’m hearing - that she isn’t _the one_ _?_ ” Judy asked with genuine puzzlement and an over-dramatic flourish at the end, and Nick couldn’t help but cast a smile to the roof of her room.

“I knew from the moment I sat down that she wasn’t 'the one'.” He said, air-quoting to no one but himself.

When Judy sat up and sent him yet another “are-you-kidding-me-stop-being-melodramatic-just-explain-yourself” look, he just laughed softly, and, slowly drifting off, half-mumbled his answer.

* * *

Idle claws tapped the table as Nick waited for his date to arrive. He glanced at the clock; _7:02, 30 minutes early. I’m losing my touch_.

As he got up to wash his hands and clear his head, he reminisced for a moment about how they had met - something about how just another frigid day and an even colder case in Tundratown turned into an unlikely meeting at a hot cocoa stand.

He remembered that Judy and Skye had hit it off almost immediately, with Judy even sharing her favorite “Nick facts” for the snowy vixen’s amusement, much to his faux chagrin.

_Of course they did. Judy gets along with everyone_.

Since then, whenever the pair made it out to Tundratown, whether it be for a case or just for personal reasons, Skye’s booth had been their go-to for a quick pick-me-up and easy conversation.

She was no ordinary vixen. She had approached Nick out of genuine interest, and she was witty, attractive, intelligent, and could hold her own in a conversation; he was even the one to ask her out, not the other way around - and yet realization dawned on the red fox, slowly but not entirely unpleasantly, like the rolling waves of the ocean lapping at his feet, until the waves were tsunamis and understanding hit him all at once -

There was no doubt in his mind that this vixen, despite being everything a fox could ask for, would not complete him or make him happy. No vixen on the planet could, not even one as exceptional as Skye.

_She’ll make someone happy, that’s for certain._ _In fact, I bet in some sort of M. Night Shyama-llama twist, she’ll end up falling for some jackrabbit named “Savage” working for the ZIA, or something_ , he thought amused.

He returned to his seat, drumming his digits on the clothed hardwood. He had expected this realization to knock him off of his feet, but instead he remained ambivalently resigned to it, as if he had subconsciously already ceded himself to this fate, long ago. As the cold rain pattered gently on his booth-side windowsill, he mulled over his thoughts once more.

_I already know this date’s going to end up with her walking out angrily and me wringing wine out of my clothes_ , he thought. _It’s doomed from the start, because_ ~

* * *

 “She’s not you, Judy.”

Judy sat puzzled for a second before her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, subtle shifts caught only by the darkness enveloping the room, away from Nick’s closed eyes.

“What?” She very nearly threw herself off of the couch to address the madness that had just been uttered by her _best friend_.

Surely she hadn’t heard wrong? He may have spoken quietly, but her ears were never ones to lie, battle-hardened by police training. Was she misinterpreting what he had said? Nick had definitely meant to say “she’s not _like_ Judy Hopps”, suggesting something altogether different.

She turned to his silhouette, gently rising and falling with each breath, ready to grill the insufferable fox because _he can’t just leave her on a note like that, cheese and crackers_ \- her expression of surprise belying her… nervousness? Hope, even?

But the fox, under the comfort of pure contentedness and relief, had long since drifted off into merciful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You may it to the end of this pile of trash? Congratulations!  
> Again, like I said previously, I would love criticism. I don't plan on writing again much, if at all, simply because there are hundreds of better authors in this fandom already, but I would like to know what I did well and what I did poorly.


End file.
